


under the flowering sky (i found you)

by orphan_account



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Drabble, Fluff, M/M, Short & Sweet, Soft Keith/Shiro (Voltron), Soft Shiro (Voltron), disgustingly soft, plant references as usual, soft, written in lowercase
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-26 16:18:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17145035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: When Keith wakes up in the middle of the night due to a night terror, his husband Shiro is ready to comfort him.





	under the flowering sky (i found you)

**Author's Note:**

> This is a Christmas gift for Secret Santa for @mlm.sheith on instagram! Merry Christmas!

nightmares, keith supposes, should consume you, drench your whole body in a shivering cold sweat and leave your heart aching sore against your rib cage. they should make you cry in your sleep, soft whimpers that crescendo into shattered sobs, your face streaked in salt.

  
it doesn’t happen that way, when keith wakes up in the middle of the night. he doesn’t jolt upwards, and shiro doesn’t stir at his side. instead, keith’s eyes flutter open, enveloping in the darkness of their cramped bedroom, descending from the bridge between dream and reality. his eyes focus on the charcoal lines of furniture, sketched by the shadows, and he exhales. exhales again, without breathing in, and his head feels light, dulling the fresh memories of his nightmare.   
  
shuffling out of his boyfriend’s hold, keith swings his legs on to the floor underneath their bed and sits up, hands spread under the sheets. he sits there for a while, forgetting at times to breathe in before breathing out. it helps him forget. or pretend to forget.   
  
“keith.” shiro is awake, and keith pictures his sleepy eyes resting on the slope of keith’s shoulders. “bad dream?”   
  
keith hums, hearing shiro yawn and the sheets shift. he smells shiro before he feels him; this time it’s chamomile, from the brew shiro made just before they went to bed. he feels its snow white petals in the kiss shiro presses on the dip of his collarbone. “i’ll start the kettle,” shiro murmurs on his skin, slipping off the bed, silently, like falling flowers.   
  
the door is left slightly open when shiro leaves, and a sliver of light fills into the dark room, scrubbing charcoal out of keith’s eyes. he can make out the freesia of shiro’s scarf, a present from allura, concerned about shiro’s health nearing winter; the black, soft fur of their dog kosmo, sleeping soundly. the darkness in keith’s nightmares fades as the colours of domesticity seeps in.   
  
a crash sounds from the kitchen. kosmo shakes himself awake, and keith scoops him up after wrapping himself in a blanket. together their eyes scrunch from the shift of light as keith steps outside of his bedroom, following the familiar and brief route to the kitchen. it’s only two doors away, their apartment is that small, but keith’s sleep addled mind stumbles over books left in stray piles by shiro, and a few mementos their friends leave behind at times. not on purpose, but keith greets them as if they’re meant to be here, running his fingers over the fabric of one of lance’s theater costumes, reaching up to touch the game cartridge pidge had stuck up underneath the doorway of the kitchen.   
  
shiro crouches on the floor with a dustpan and brush, sweeping up the shards of forget me not blue ceramic. he grins lopsidedly, that soft warm smile keith fell in love with. “i broke a cup. sorry.”   
  
“it’s not your fault,” keith replies. he places kosmo at a safe distance, kneeling next to shiro. reaching out for his hands, he turns them over, frowning at the red trickling down his forearm. “wash your hand in the bathroom, then get the first aid kit. i’ll clean this up.”   
  
shiro nods, shuffling sleepily. keith sweeps the remainder of the mess into the bin, shrugging off his blanket despite the goosebumps and draping it over a snoozing kosmo. when shiro returns, keith sits him on one of the stools near the counter, methodically inspecting the cut near the base of shiro’s palm. “sorry,” shiro repeats again, hissing slightly as keith dabs the antiseptic gently.   
  
“it’s okay. as many times as it takes, right?” keith offers a smile, which shiro always returns.   
  
“what was it about this time?” shiro asks as keith’s fingers reach for the bandage.   
  
keith tilts his head in thought. “i don’t really remember. i just remember the feeling i had before i woke up, of being utterly helpless in this happening over, and over.”   
  
“you won’t feel helpless all the time,keith.” shiro replies, eyebrows furrowing in concern. 

  
“i don’t with you,” keith says, his cheeks rose pink. shiro smiles a little brighter, sits a little straighter after that. fastening the bandage with a safety pin, keith places a kiss on the inside of shiro’s wrist. “better?”   
  
shiro nods, another soft smile in thanks. “there’s no more valerian though. i’ll have to go to the greenhouse.”   
  
keith doesn’t need to tell shiro that he will follow, shiro just lifts a second coat from a chair near the back door, hand outstretched. taking the coat, keith takes shiro’s hand as well, pressing another kiss on the bandaged wrist just to see the rose bloom on shiro’s cheeks.   
  
shiro’s greenhouse greets them from the other side of their small garden, mere steps away. its glass walls look luminous from the caress of moonlight, the white panes like veins of white delphiniums. keith hops once, twice, and shiro twirls him inside, their quiet laughter spilling between the pebbled floor.   
  
keith enters paradise. or the inside of shiro’s head. he can’t really decide what the greenhouse resembles more, in all its kaleidoscope of green, flecks of marigold and lilac and rose. plants spill out of their pots to the floor speckled with soil, or towards the sky, where they dance with shafts of moonlight. their shadows are spindled and secretive, and keith feels a phantom tickle on his cheeks as he walks underneath them, huddling on stool as shiro works nearby.   
words are pressed against the leaves, stems of the plants that shiro clasps, fingers gentle. keith watches him makes his rounds, almost unconsciously, nudging a pot or two closer to the window, stretching to whisper into the stalks of sunflowers, keith’s favourite, humming to the hydrangea. it’s a sleepy sound, slipping with the creak of the stool under his feet, the faint sighs of the wind. keith already feels his eyes drooping.   
  
shiro appears near his feet, tapping twice on his knees, palms full of salmon pink sprigs of valerian, a golden geranium near his thumb. he frowns as keith yawns. “did i take too long?”   
  
keith shakes his head. “i like watching you work. it’s like watching someone who’s in love.”   
  
shiro ducks his head, ears pink. “let’s get back inside. it’s cold in here.”   
  
nodding, keith follows shiro, rubbing his goosebumps. he rubs shiro’s too, kissing his elbow. he likes doing that, pressing his lips on unusual parts of shiro’s body just because he can, and feeling the thrum of warmth fluttering underneath. keith had thought that shiro would find it weird, had thought that shiro would find a lot of things weird, like how he talked, or how he had nightmares with no reasons behind them. it had never been the case with shiro, something he had told keith over and over. “i love all of you,” shiro had murmured against his lips once, after their first night together, and wouldn’t stop repeating it, even when keith struggled to sleep from blushing too hard.   
  
he can hear the same words, in shiro’s smile as they step inside, in his cautious hand against keith’s waist, steering him to the kitchen. kosmo snoozes nearby. with slow hands, shiro drains the roots, then sprinkles them in a small simmering pot, inhaling deeply with a reassured smile.   
  
“no spills this time. i’m watching you,” keith says with a soft chuckle, leaning against the counter.   
  
“yes, chef,” shiro says, his tone light with humour, heavy with sleep. he twirls the geranium in his hand, before tucking it behind keith’s ear, then pressing a kiss underneath his lobe. keith laughs again, which dissipates into a sigh as shiro’s mouth follows the shadows cast on his neck, humming against his collarbone. shiro winds his arms around keith, like honeysuckle on a trellis, and keith leans towards the sunshine, into shiro. he smells bee balm now, and keith feels shiro’s garden when their lips touch. there’s hyacinths in his hair, snowdrops in the skin under his pyjama shirt, wallflowers in the whine that roots deep in keith’s stomach.   
  
“shiro,” keith mumbles, away from shiro’s lips and on shiro’s cherry blossom pink nose, kissing over his scar. “i wanna sleep. and the tea’s nearly ready,” he points out, peering over shiro’s shoulder.   
  
shiro huffs loudly, but a smile is on his face as keith slips his hands in oven gloves, just in case. he wraps himself to shiro’s back as the elder pours two cups, both sunflower yellow, with tea, wisps of vapour unfurling. keith mumbles a thanks between shiro’s shoulder blades, and they shuffle to a pair of stools. before passing it to keith, shiro blows on the mug, sipping from the rim with concern, then nodding. “there, it’s okay now.”   
  
keith claps quietly, taking a sip for himself and closing his eyes. “it’s good. it’s always good.”   
  
“and yet you never finish your cup,” shiro teases.   
  
“that’s because it’s too good,” keith says, and immediately yawns after his second gulp. shiro chuckles, and keith blushes.   
  
true enough, keith feels drowsy too soon, too drowsy to feel shiro peeling his fingers away from the cup and lifting his elbows that were keeping his head up from the counter. “i can finish it this time,” keith tries to mumble in protest as shiro sweeps him up, head pressed in shiro’s collarbone. shiro hums in response. “i was tired anyway, keith. let’s go to bed, yeah?”   
  
“only if you insist,” keith murmurs, hearing shiro’s soft laugh behind closed eyes. the amber phosphenes under his eyelids from the kitchen fade away, and when keith opens them, he’s returned to their bedroom, and shiro is lowering him in something soft. brushing his bangs, he presses a kiss on keith’s forehead. “i’ll be back. i just need to get kosmo back to bed, too, okay?”   
  
keith nods, and waves sleepily as shiro slips out of the room. rolling under the sheets, keith slips his hand behind his ear, kissing the geranium and tucking it under shiro’s pillow before he enters, arms full of kosmo. shiro smiles apologetically.   
  
“i think he wants to sleep with us tonight. he won’t let go of me,” shiro chuckles.   
  
keith shrugs, reaching his arms out to embrace their dog’s fur. “maybe he had a bad dream too, and he needs you to take care of him.”   
  
shiro frowns, rubbing his chin thoughtfully as he rests his head on his pillow. “maybe i should’ve made him some tea as well. or let him finish the one you didn’t.”   
  
keith sticks his tongue out, then bites his lip. “i do appreciate it, you know. and i’m sorry i don’t finish it. it’s not...i should finish it, i should be grateful for you doing all this, when i don’t do anything for you in return—”   
  
“keith,” shiro says, doesn’t sigh with exasperation at keith’s moping. he just says his name, a statement on his lips as he pulls keith to his chest, kosmo shuffling out of his arms. “i need you, and love you, more than you think. i should be the one that’s grateful.”   
  
“that doesn’t make sense,” keith snorts into shiro’s neck, curling his feet.   
  
“it doesn’t have to,” shiro says, yawning this time. he combs his hand through keith’s hair. “if you have another nightmare, i’ll be here. okay?”   
  
“yeah,” keith nods. “i’ll be here. as many times as it takes, takashi.”   
  
“i know, keith.” the silver haired man smiles, closing his eyes and tucking keith’s head under his chin.   
  
keith watches the silver of light from the door ajar, streaking shiro’s hair with marigold, and falls asleep with the charcoal fading into inky violet, and the glow of shiro’s love under his eyelids.


End file.
